


and in the woods, she called out a warning

by mollivanders



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: (at least all the original characters!), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon Universe, Caretaking, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Mystery, Prophetic Dreams, Psychological Horror, Rainforests, Supernatural Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24436063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollivanders/pseuds/mollivanders
Summary: “Can you imagine staying here?” she asks him one morning, gearing up for her daily trek with Baze. They drift further and further from camp now, always checking in, and still have found no sign of who lived here before. The only settlement they’ve found has been their own base, their own fortress.(She knows it now, as surely as she’s known anything.)“No,” Cassian says, and presses a fleeting kiss to her knuckles, a fonder farewell than they usually show. “I imagine us leaving.”They’ve been too long out of contact and out of the fight, and it shows on Cassian’s face. He doesn’t dream – he remembers – and the longing that comes with it scatters in his eyes.“Home One,” she says, and smiles against the shadows.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso
Comments: 17
Kudos: 75





	and in the woods, she called out a warning

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Don't repost or reuse this, folks. That's my disclaimer now.

It rains for the first two weeks on Hejda, one of the small planets the Rebellion is scouting for a new base after fleeing Yavin IV. It’s a place lush with temperate rainforests, one they stumbled across that seems to have been left off standard star charts. The initial scouts had found it when they stumbled upon a signal, an ancient scrambled message that never reached its destination. It seemed like the perfect candidate, a habitable base where the Empire would never find them, and the Rebellion had sent them to test it out. Besides the entry from orbit, when their screens fritzed out for a few heart pounding seconds before resetting, they were off to a good start.

“It’s a difficult entry,” the commander said when they finally land. “It’ll be a good deterrent against Imperial patrols.”

They’d headed for the structure the initial scouts had identified for them, but it was filled with debris and native flora that needed to be cleared. Their team of thirty had set up camp outside and gotten to work, a sense of hope permeating the mission. Everyone was getting restless back on Home One, with one failed base attempt following another, and Cassian shoots her a knowing look as another young rebel laughs happily, loudly, glad to be outside again.

“Keep it down,” Cassian calls out sharply, keeping order, and the soldier falls back in line.

(After all – they still don’t know what lies in these forests.)

Jyn recalls the legacy of Yavin IV, how it had stood against the Empire for nearly two decades before being discovered, the Massassi temples rising out of trackless jungle forests. She still remembers every detail of her first visit there with Saw, newly orphaned and absorbing every detail around her in silent observation. In some ways, Hejda reminds her of Yavin IV: the antiquity, the greenery, the possibility.

(Perhaps this time – )

+

The sound of water falling all around them as they set up camp flips a switch inside Jyn, makes her bones remember the sounds of Lah’mu in the spring when thunderstorms swept across the homestead, bringing everything back to life. It had made anything seem possible to her, childish optimism winning over the trauma she already knew. Lah’mu bleeds into Hejda, and she remembers the rhythms of home. From afar, she feels Cassian watching her, studying the shift.

“Do you like it here?” he asks that night, his brow against hers as they catch some rest. Even here, her body is listening for the sound of water pattering off the sides of their tent, a familiar memory. She doesn’t truly know how to answer, how to express whether she wants something beyond _survive – fight – survive again_. 

(She is beginning to try.)

“I haven’t thought about it like that,” she finally says, and feels Cassian’s arms tighten around her. “I like that it’s hidden.”

She doesn’t say _safe_ ; she doesn’t know if she even knows that would be like, or if she could trust it if she knew the feeling. She suspects the same could be said for her partner. There is no safety in a strange place, and she is a stranger forever.

“I like that there are no Imperials here,” he says and a short laugh escapes her as she sits up to look down at him. The air is cool, if damp, and his hair clings to his brow in curled tendrils that she longs to brush away.

“That’s a bonus,” she says, scrunching her nose, and as if on cue he leans up to mirror her, pulling her hair out of its tie, hand tangling in the knots. This, she likes – 

(This, she thinks, feels like safety.)

+

The shelters come down when they finish clearing the old fortifications, the artifact of some long forgotten culture that looms down upon them. She would feel the significance more keenly, she thinks, if she hadn’t hidden out in so many such places, hadn’t relied upon abandoned civilizations as a shield against the one she lives in now. As it is –

“Comm systems are up,” says Bodhi, giving K-2 and the commander a thumbs up. “I’m having trouble stabilizing the signal.” He looks at Jyn as he says it and the first worry curls in her heart. “I’ll keep working on it.”

The supplies go in quickly once the rooms are finally cleared of dangerous vegetation that bites – she’ll never make the mistake of trusting native flora after Onderon – and some questionable traces of fauna. Their mission now is to secure the base and evaluate its viability before inviting the rest of the Alliance to leave Home One, and after their _last_ mission ended in another shoot-out with Imperial troops in a city center, she’ll take no chances with this one. It still reminds her of Yavin IV, but all she can see now are vulnerabilities and defensible positions.

(She’s still positive the Alliance could do much worse than this, a remote planet left uninhabited with no large predators.)

And then, the first soldier falls sick.

+

The med supplies they have are rudimentary and at first they don’t know if it’s environmental from the base, the planet, or something else. By the time they identify the fungus that causes a host of symptoms everyone wants to avoid, the commander has quarantined the sick soldiers inside the base and they’re back out in the jungle. Nearly a third of their contingent remains inside.

“Maybe there’s a reason there’s no civilization left here,” Baze grumbles darkly, watching the last soldier be cordoned off inside.

“No,” Chirrut answers, a frown permanently etched across his brow these days. “That is not why.”

“That’s helpful,” K-2 complains, and they all give him a _look_.

(It does absolutely nothing to stop him.)

He’s not wrong in that Chirrut’s premonition reassures _nobody_ , and Jyn begins to distance herself from the base on perimeter checks with Baze. It doesn’t seem like a coincidence. It’s a successful military tactic that the Empire has used before. They could have been exposed to a bioweapon meant to thin their advance ranks, or used as a trap to lure in additional help from the Rebellion. Even if the fungus was native to this planet, an Imperial probe droid could find them like this and – 

_We know, Jyn_ , her father had said. _Gather your things._

So she stalks the perimeter, checking her blaster and gearing up for a fight. Baze walks beside her, watching her six, and they radio back in on schedule or risk worried calls from Bodhi, checking their position. The rain falls, the air sweet with spring renewal, and worry lodges deeper in her heart.

+

Her dreams become vivid, bright colors splashed across her subconscious, and she wakes with a pounding heart clutching her mother’s necklace. A vacuum calls to her, whispers inviting her closer, and Cassian bandages her hand after she wakes digging her nails deep into her palm.

“Do you have dreams like that?” she asks and he shakes his head, concern etched across his brow.

“I don’t dream at all,” he answers, and brushes her hair out of her face. “Maybe it’s something in the forest.”

She cannot explain the rightness of his words, least of all to herself, and as the medical droid clears her she gives Baze a frustrated look. “Do you have dreams like that?” she asks and he shakes his head.

“Chirrut dreams,” he says. “I don’t.”

So they stalk the perimeter by day, keeping guard as Bodhi and K-2 struggle to keep a clear line of communication out. It’s too dangerous to leave a stable signal that the Empire could stumble upon, just as they did, but they can’t trace the source of the signal they found until the comm equipment is stable. It’s a frustrating dilemma that has Jyn and Baze pushing further and further into the forest, other patrols falling into their old paths.

 _Do you like it here?_ , Cassian had asked. She hadn’t known the answer then, but her answer now is clear.

(There is no safety, especially not at home.)

+

And still, she dreams.

She catches sleep as she can, keeping watch over Cassian just as he keeps watch over her. The only guard against her waking nightmares is the steady beat of his heart, and it pulls her out of dreams she cannot evade. They sleep with loaded blasters at their side and startle awake at the slightest rustle of noise, unable to trust the night watch. She sees the shadows of a thousand near misses in his eyes and knows the fear he carries is the same as hers.

(They both have someone to lose again.)

+

“Can you imagine staying here?” she asks him one morning, gearing up for her daily trek with Baze. They drift further and further from camp now, always checking in, and still have found no sign of who lived here before. The only settlement they’ve found has been their own base, their own fortress.

(She knows it now, as surely as she’s known anything.)

“No,” Cassian says, and presses a fleeting kiss to her knuckles, a fonder farewell than they usually show. “I imagine us leaving.”

They’ve been too long out of contact and out of the fight, and it shows on Cassian’s face. He doesn’t dream – he remembers – and the longing that comes with it scatters in his eyes.

“Home One,” she says, and smiles against the shadows.

+

Slowly, the sick soldiers recover and are let out of the base, one by one. The last to sicken is the first to recover, and the first man in is the last man out – the young rebel Cassian had chided in those first days. He stumbles out a ghost of himself, and for all that the medical droids clear him, he seems different to Jyn’s eyes. He doesn’t seem to hear orders to follow them and wanders the perimeter, watching them all from afar. She and Baze pass him as they head out, and he stops to watch them.

“That man isn’t right,” Baze says when they’re out of earshot.

“Nothing about this place is,” she says.

As far as they can tell, something had lurked in the base, perhaps for generations untold, and spread through the first contact it had found. The rest of the patients seem to recover, weakened and haggard but undaunted. Many of them want to stay and set up camp in the fortress again, despite their narrow escape.

“We’re not going back in,” Bodhi insists, “until the Alliance knows what’s going on here,” and Jyn thinks again of how the Empire could thin their ranks, draw them out of hiding.

“We’re not going back in, right?” she asks Bodhi in a whisper and he shakes his head.

“We have to get out of here,” he whispers back, and something in his voice makes her turn quickly to see the young rebel watching them from across the clearing. Whispers grow in her mind, a dark vacuum in the center of the earth, and she pulls Bodhi back a step with her.

“Work on convincing the commander,” she says. “But there’s something else out there.”

“Why go out there then?” Bodhi asks, gesturing over at Baze. “Stay here.”

“It’s not any safer here,” she says, frowning as she looks over at Cassian. He’s arguing with the commander, who still hasn’t been persuaded to give up. Now that the sick are recovered, there’s no reason left to wait and yet – they linger.

“Try to convince him,” she repeats. “Baze and I will see what we can do.”

\+ 

Their treks delve deeper and deeper into the forest, the scent of greater danger lurking in the air. As they climb down a ledge, Jyn gives voice to her thoughts.

“Why _isn’t_ anyone here? It’s a temperate planet. It can support life.”

“Why was it not on the star charts?” Baze echoes in his grumbly tone, scanning the horizon distrustfully.

“Are we just that _lucky_ ,” she says in frustration, “or is it the other – ”

Baze is about to reply when they hit a clearing, a temple in the center, covered in climbing vines. She freezes, her blood gone to ice water, and her heartbeat picks up, _rat a tat tat, rat a tat tat_ , a signal call. 

(She knows this place.)

The temple seems to call out to them, a familiar invitation, and Jyn takes one step before she locks eyes with Baze, his hand on her arm. What, after all, had led them this far from camp? What had led their steps to this place, of all places, on a forgotten planet?

At that moment, the comm crackles to life with Bodhi’s voice, scratchy with worry. “Jyn? Baze? Where are you? You missed your last three check-ins. I’m getting a lot of interference from wherever you are. Cassian’s about to lead a – ”

“Stop him,” Jyn interrupts, filled with confident knowledge and determination, a fog lifting from her mind. “Tell him to stay out of the forest. We’re coming back, and we need to leave. Today”

“Leave?” Bodhi asks over the comm, static bubbling across the call, and she hears both trust and surprise in his voice. She looks at Baze who nods firmly, a shared knowledge between them.

“While we can,” he says, answering Bodhi, and it’s only a moment before Bodhi confirms.

Jyn looks back at the temple, and the way it calls to her. It’s _too_ familiar, too inviting. She has a feeling if she goes in there, she’ll never come out.

(She’ll never come out the same.)

And yet, it calls to her –

“The signal,” she says, revelation upon her, and Baze hefts his blaster cannon, pointing it in the direction of the temple.

“Should we – ” she starts, looking at Baze, thinking to turn off the signal or find out what it is, but he shakes his head firmly, turning her around towards camp, blaster still up.

“No,” he says, and as they fall into step back to camp he adds, “We’ll blast it from space.”

+

The temple they describe was in Chirrut’s dreams, and now, she is sure, in hers as well. He insists it is not Jedi, is not Sith, is not anything he knows – except as evil.

“It is real, then,” he says somberly, and as the commander opens his mouth to protest, to at least check it out, Chirrut adds, “there is no one on this planet, Commander.”

(Saw’s voice echoes in her mind, calling out from the past, _save the Rebellion, save the dream!_.)

It’s only when they begin loading supplies back onto the ship that the young rebel snaps, snarling and charging from the perimeter towards them. It’s an animal sound that sucks the oxygen out of Jyn’s lungs and has the commander scrambling for his blaster as the young man barrels towards them, hands outstretched like claws. There is a sudden sharp report – a smoke of blaster fire – and the young man falls at their feet, eyes red with something very much of this earth.

He’d died for nothing. He’d died, perhaps a long time ago. He was just a kid.

(So were they all, once.)

“Commander,” Cassian says, dropping his blaster arm and haunted once again, “we leave now.”

+

When they take off, everyone’s eyes are on the planet. There’s a moment – only a flicker, a mirage – where the whole planet looks to be covered in fungus, smoke coming off its surface – and then with a flash of light it returns to the sights of rainforests and clouds. They all turn to look at the commander who swallows hard.

“That was close,” he admits, and gives the order to jump to lightspeed.

(Admits what – Jyn is never sure – but on the way back to Home One, she dreams of rainforests, and beyond, a temple calling out.)

+

They remain quarantined on Home One for two months before the medical droids clear them, checking them for traces of the fungus, radiation, or any other symptoms. Nobody else falls ill or regresses, and Jyn tries to leave the planet behind. Her new dreams have eased as Cassian’s waking shadows have returned, restless with the cost of battle. She carries him with her, to the future.

By the time they’re released, all Jyn wants to do is get back to their shared quarters, the few belongings she possess back in their places. When the door shuts behind them Cassian pulls her into a tight hug that she mirrors, drinking in the scent of his hair and the pattern of his breaths.

“We’re home,” she says, rubbing his back, and he nods, pulling back just enough to press his brow to hers.

“I like it _here_ ,” he says, a stronger echo of himself months before, and she knows what he means. They may never have a place they are safe, not for the rest of their lives, and it may never end. She doesn’t need a safe place, walls and fortifications she could never fully trust, but here, in the circle of Cassian’s arms - 

This, she thinks, is where she feels safe.

(This is where they are home.)

_Finis_

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I wrote this with a lot of _Lost_ vibes in my system as I start my rewatch, but also I just needed to unspool some stuff from the stress of the last few months. Also, I honestly don't care at this point if a commander outranks a captain; I went with that the commander and Cassian were from different branches so the commander outranks him. Also also, *chortles* _candidate_.


End file.
